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I even began taking the cash, primarily because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of common sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing since he could really charge more, especially if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was outrageous, however you 'd be stunned how many people desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of money to invest and it was the suggestions that truly flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and live with them. They were in love with who I pretended to be for that brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a person who liked me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I loved my dad. That had actually altered too and I do not know if one thing involved the other exactly, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wished to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps. But a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me initially, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and think of the guy who was making love to me really was my papa. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel special and developed and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it.
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